


Oh, Memories

by bleedingballroomfloor



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Begging, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, First Dance, Fluff, Foreplay, Happy Ending, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, M/M, Making Love, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Pain Kink, Public Blow Jobs, References to Depression, Reunion Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sobriety, Teasing, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 14:30:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedingballroomfloor/pseuds/bleedingballroomfloor
Summary: It's been eight years since Ryan left Panic! At The Disco, and Brendon is at his all time low.What happens when they meet up again?





	Oh, Memories

It was two-thirty in the afternoon, and it was raining. Brendon's clothes were heavy and stuck to his skin as he walked around the streets of Las Vegas, extremely hungover - he had just woken up maybe an hour ago, in some random dude's bed, completely naked, and his ass had hurt. It still did, as a matter of fact. His head hurt, too. Zack was probably still fretting over him. The last time he had checked his phone, he had gotten seventeen texts from the bodyguard as well as eight missed calls, three of them with voicemails. He had ignored them then, and he continued to do so.

He bumped into another pedestrian, mumbling an apology (they guy didn't return the gesture and simply grunted angrily in response), not looking up from the wet pavement. He was starting to get cold, and wet, more and more with each step. He really wanted to go drop himself off at another bar, but he had been in this part of Las Vegas before, and he knew that the nearest bar was almost three miles away, and he couldn't walk that far without someone recognizing him and posting about it on social media, which Zack would then see and then come get him. He didn't want to see Zack right now. He wanted to be alone. So he turned into the nearest shop he saw, which just happened to be a diner.

A blast of warm air greeted him as he walked in the room, and he immediately started feel a little better. Just a little; the mood change was very slim. At least he was out of the cold, wet rain, although he was still in his cold, wet clothes.

He sat down at the nearest booth, wincing as his arse made contact with the seat. That guy must have fucked him hard last night. He couldn't remember.

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. He felt sick. He wanted to go back to the bus where the rest of the guys were staying. But then he would have to face Kenny's disappointed remarks, Dan's disapproval, and Dallon's fretting. He didn't even want to think about Zack's lecture. It was best to stay out until the show that night. Soundcheck didn't matter at the moment.

He pulled his hands away from his face just in time to see a waitress walking up to his table. He sat up straighter, wiping off some of the water that was still on his face, hoping to pass off as a normal passerby, not some guy who was going through a divorce, drinking from the moment he woke up until he passed out again, and nearly tried to kill himself two days ago.

"Welcome to Roxy's Diner, how can I help you?" The woman greeted in a thick Southern accent.

"Do you have any beer?" Brendon heard himself say. "Or alcohol, or anything, really."

"We do," The waitress - Eliza, as her nametag read - confirmed.

"I'll just have one of those. I don't care what kind." He really didn't. He was past the point of caring. He had been in that stage for a long time now.

"Right up," Eliza promised. She paused, then chuckled. "Sir, would'ya like a towel?"

Brendon remembered that he was still sopping wet. "Yes, that would be great. Thanks."

She winked. "No problem, sugar," she said before walking away, her high heels clicking with each step.

Brendon wiped his wet hands on his jeans, which were also wet, making no difference. He was just glad that the waitress didn't recognize him. He almost expected her to, honestly. He was glad to be away from the publicity for a moment. All he wanted was some liquor.

He spent his time scrolling on Twitter, not really paying attention to whatever the other celebrities he followed were saying, simply passing the time, but when he came across an account that Zack had retweeted a tweet from, he froze.

@/panicupdating: Brendon apparently didn't show up for soundcheck?

He quickly made his way to the explore tab, typing in "#panicatthedicso", and was shocked to see all the overwhelmed accounts freak out about his absence.

@/fairylightsurie: is beebo okay??

@/rossurie: im going to cRY IF THIS SHOW GETS CANCELLED BUT I HOPE BRENDON IS FEELING OKAY

@/weekxs: quit harassing him y'all already fucked up with his house

Brendon quickly logged off of Twitter. He didn't want to think about his old house at the moment. He remembered how badly the fans reacted to hearing his decision about moving out. He wondered what they would think if he and Sarah announced their agreement for a divorce.

He looked up, putting on a fake smile when Eliza came up to him, a blue towel in her hand.

"Thank you," he said genuinely, starting to wipe his hands off.

"No problem, sugar," Eliza responded. "Your beer will be up in a just a second."

Brendon managed to dry himself off enough to stop dripping, minus his hair (his bangs were sticking to his forehead and it reminded him of his hairstyle when he had been fifteen). He stood up to attempt to dry off his lower half when he saw something that made his heart stop - a head of feathery brown hair.

It wasn't the fact that it was regular old brown hair - it was the face that shared the head of hair. A face that he hadn't seen in quite a while, and honestly was one of the last faces he wanted to see in this moment, yet it was also a face that he didn't know he wanted to see until he saw it.

He stood there for a minute, lost in the person's face, the towel limp in his hand, momentarily forgotten. He hadn't seen him yet, he was simply scrolling on his phone, a bottle of beer and a half-eaten burger sitting next to him on the table. Brendon didn't know if he wanted him to see him. His heart was thumping faster than it had before he was about to perform the very first show with the band. He was currently in a fight with his own mind. Should he go up to him? Should he just leave and forget he ever saw him? Should he wait until he spotted him?

He sat back down. His back was facing him. He felt out of breath for some reason, like he had just played a great show, although he hadn't. He hadn't in a while, in fact. Sure, he had played shows, but none of them had been great.

"Here you are, sweetie." He was interrupted by Eliza, and he jumped slightly as she set the tall glass of beer on the table. "If you want to, you can pay right now unless you want to order som'thing else, otherwise -"

"Yeah, I'll do that," Brendon decided loudly. He dug in his pockets and was relieved to find a twenty dollar bill.

"Here," he said, handing the money to Eliza. "You can keep the change."

She flashed him a bright smile. "Thank you very much, darlin'. Hope you have a good rest of your day, and remember to stay out of the rain." She picked up the towel and was about to walk away when Brendon stopped her.

"Do you, um -" he hesitated. "Do you know who that person is?" He asked her, twisting around to gesture at the familiar face.

"Who?" Eliza asked, looking in the direction Brendon was pointing. She shook her head. "Nope, sorry sugar. I serve dozens of people here, I can't remember everyone's face," she added with a laugh.

"Oh." Needless to say, Brendon was a bit disappointed. "That's alright. Thanks though."

"Why do you ask?" Eliza questioned.

"Um -" Brendon blushed. "No reason. Just -" he had finally made up his mind. "Do you think I could sit with him?"

"Well, why didn't you ask that in the first place?" Eliza laughed. "Checking him out, are you?"

"No -"

"No shame in that," she continued. "I see people doin' it all the time. Just go over and start up a conversation."

"Okay. Thank you," Brendon said weakly as Eliza walked away, her heels clicking sharply with each step. He was really glad that she didn't recognize him now. He didn't even want to think about what Dan, Kenny, or Dallon would say if the word got out, or what Zack would say, or - worse - what the fans would say.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm his brain, when he finally made up his mind. Without another thought, he grabbed his bottle of beer and stood up from his seat, walking over to the person whom he didn't know if he was afraid to talk to or relieved to talk to.

He finally noticed him as Brendon neared. His mouth dropped open, his eyes widened. Brendon attempted a small smile.

"Um... hey there," he said quietly.

He blinked a couple times, like he wasn't quite sure if the sight in front of him was real or not.

"Hi," Ryan finally said.

Brendon scratched at the back of his neck. He was still wet from the rain, he remembered. He wished he could at least be in dry clothes for his first encounter with Ryan Ross in a long, long, time. "Can I sit down?" He asked.

"Yeah - yeah, go 'head," he stuttered out.

Brendon sat himself down in the seat across from Ryan, placing his beer on the table. He was faintly aware of the small smile on his lips, and he didn't do anything to rid it. "How are you?" He started. "I haven't seen you since - since that Halloween party, wasn't it?"

"Uh... yeah..." Ryan replied, still staring at Brendon with a surprised expression. He quickly snapped out of his gaze. "Sorry - I just wasn't expecting to see you here."

"No, I get it," Brendon replied, although his heart sank at the older man's words. "I just - I saw you from across the room, and I thought to go say hi."

"No, that's totally fine," Ryan said back, giving his ex-bandmate a short smile. The action brought relief to Brendon.

"What are you doing in Vegas? I thought you lived in LA..." He asked next.

"I do," Ryan said with a nod. "It's, uh... it's the twenty-eighth. So I dropped by this morning to visit him... just staying for the day."

"Oh." Brendon paused. Was it really the twenty-eighth? He had barely been on tour. It felt longer than it actually was.

"Oh -" He gasped, suddenly remembering the significance of today's date. "Oh, man... I'm sorry."

Ryan shrugged. "It's alright. Never really liked the man," he chuckled, "but it's the least I can do."

There was a silence after that. Brendon bit his lip, unsure of what to say. He hadn't really thought about that when he had first seen the older man. All he had thought about was wanting to talk to him after so long. He raised the beer to his lips and took a drink, something to erase the stickiness between them.

"What are you doing in Vegas?" Ryan finally asked.

"Show," Brendon told him, setting the beer down.

"Show?" Ryan repeated, frowning. He glanced at the clock that hung over the entrance doors. "Brendon, it's nearly three o'clock. Shouldn't you be at soundcheck?"

Brendon shrugged. "Didn't want to go," he mumbled.

"Didn't want to go?" Ryan repeated, scoffing. "If that's not the shittiest excuse to avoid playing a show, then I don't know what is. You played a show with a fever. You got knocked out by a water bottle and still continued the show."

Two years since he had seen Brendon, and that was how their conversation was going? Brendon scowled.

"This is different," he mumbled. "I'm not feeling well... haven't been feeling well in a while, actually."

"Go to a doctor or something, but that's no reason to cancel -"

"Sarah and I are getting a divorce," he blurted out, and Ryan immediately shut up. "That's why. I don't remember the last time when I didn't feel like shit."

Ryan glanced down, eyes locking on the wedding band on Brendon's ring finger. "Your ring, though -"

"It's not official," Brendon said harshly, "but it will be. The fans don't know."

"Oh." Ryan looked back up at Brendon again. "I'm sorry to hear that. How did... was there a reason?"

"There were a lot of reasons." Brendon took a sip of his beer, only to find that the bottle was empty. He set it aside, wishing for another. "I... I don't really want to talk about it."

"Fair enough," Ryan said back, frowning. He paused. "But, y'know, you can talk. We're old friends, you can to talk to me."

Brendon would be lying if he said something didn't stir in his chest right then. But his pride got the best of him. "It's none of your business."

Ryan shrugged and looked away. "Fine with me."

Brendon glared at him. The older man didn't say anything, nor did he. He drummed his fingers frustratingly on the table, waiting for Ryan to continue. But he didn't.

"Okay, fine." Brendon finally broke the silence, and Ryan looked back towards him. "I'll tell you. Are you happy now?"

Ryan said nothing. Brendon sighed and continued.

"When I was recording the album, I got real stressed. It was just me, y'know? So I started drinking a lot to cope with it, and she didn't like it. I ignored her to focus on the album. And then one night, I, uh... I woke up with another girl in bed."

Ryan's face stayed apathetic as Brendon kept talking. "So Sarah walked in and saw, and she started screaming at me. I had a hangover and I just didn't want to hear it, so I left. I've been staying at Zack's house for the time being, but I need to find a new place to crash after tour. "

He finished, and Ryan let out an exasperated huff. "Wow," he finally said. "That's... wow."

"I know," Brendon groaned. "I fucked up."

"You really fucked up," Ryan emphasized. "Jesus, Bren, how could you do that?"

"I don't know!" Brendon exclaimed, frantic. "I was drunk and stressed and horny -"

"That's no excuse," Ryan interrupted sternly.

Brendon slumped in his seat. "You're right," he mumbled. "I don't know what I was thinking."

He really wanted another beer.

He could mention something about his depression. How he's been feeling hopeless ever since the start of the tour, how he felt as if he would live the rest of his life running on sex and alcohol, how he tried to drown himself in the hotel bathtub the other day. He could, but he wouldn't.

"Again, I'm sorry about the divorce," Ryan said after a moment. "If you ever need someone to talk to... well, you have my number."

Brendon felt his face heat up.

"I should get going now, so -"

"Wait," Brendon interrupted. He glanced up at Ryan shamefully. "I, uh... I don't. I don't have it. I... well, I deleted it. After the, um - after we split."

He watched for any sign of emotion in Ryan's face as he nodded, but there was none. "Okay," the older man said. "That's understandable."

"Yeah."

"Do you -" he coughed. "Uh, do you want it back? Just in case?"

"Oh - sure." Brendon fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Ryan. He couldn't help but blush. This again? He suddenly had a flashback of one of the first times they had practice in Spencer's basement, and when he and Ryan were the only ones left. How Ryan had grinned at him and asked for his number, not caring about being subtle. Brendon had blushed as he had handed him his phone, and stuttered out a nervous laugh when he saw that Ryan had saved his contact name as Ry <3.

"Here you are." Ryan slid the phone back to Brendon. He looked down and saw the name that Ryan had put in for himself: Ryan Ross. His heart sank.

"Anyway, I really need to get going. I have a plane to catch tomorrow morning, and I still need to get packing..."

"Yeah, totally. I'll walk you out."

The rain had subsided by now, the only remains of it left being the sweet fragrance of rainwater mixed with dirt. Brendon breathed it in, tried to sober up from the night before. He hoped no one noticed him and Ryan walking out together.

Brendon waited as Ryan hailed a taxi. He started to worry. After he left, Brendon would have no other choice but to go back to the venue. The show would only be delayed then, not canceled. He wasn't feeling up to a show now, but he couldn't risk walking around the Las Vegas streets and getting recognized. What to do, what to do?

"I'll see you another time then?" Ryan asked, snapping Brendon out of his gaze. The taxi was waiting behind him. He had to think fast.

"Yeah." Brendon tried to smile. "We could catch up again sometime."

"Sounds nice." Ryan smiled back. "See you."

"Bye." Brendon stood near the taxi as Ryan opened the door and started to climb inside. And then, because Brendon was stupid, impulsive, and didn't think about the consequences, he quickly jumped inside himself and shut the door just as Ryan was done giving the driver the address.

Ryan stared at him as if he had seen a ghost. "What are you doing?" He asked frantically.

The taxi started moving. Brendon smiled to himself. "What does it look like? I'm coming back with you."

"What? Brendon -" Ryan lowered his voice. "You have a show tonight. You need to get to the venue."

"I don't want to," Brendon said back as softly as Ryan was talking. "Ryan, you 'gotta understand, I can't perform tonight. I just can't."

"Then go back and tell Zack, don't just run off with me!" Ryan whispered angrily.

Instead of giving a reasonable answer like he should have done, Brendon smirked. "Oh, so we're running off together, are we?" He asked, a glint in his eyes.

"Brendon," Ryan groaned. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" Brendon asked innocently, although his smile said otherwise.

"You know what."

Brendon dropped his act. "Please, Ryan," he begged in a whisper. "Please. I can't go back to Zack, I just can't. I need to get away for a while. Just let me stay with you. I promise I'll go back tonight, just... please."

Ryan stared him over for a few moments. "Fine," he gave in. "But in return -" he added quickly, and Brendon glowered at him. "You have to tell me what's going on."

Brendon scoffed. "I have."

Ryan gave him a look, a disapproving look that he knew all too well. "Bren."

He looked away.

"Don't try to play this off. Look, I know things have been... weird... around us ever since the split, but I still know you better than anyone else. You know that."

Brendon did know that. Ryan knew things that even Sarah didn't, and some of those things Brendon never planned on telling her about.

"No matter what, I'm here to help you."

Brendon continued to look out the window and pressed his lips together, trying to control himself. Hot tears started to form in his eyes. He wouldn't let them fall, he wouldn't. He took a deep breath, regained himself, and turned back to Ryan with a fake smile.

"Thank you."

They arrived at the hotel ten minutes later in less than comfortable silence. Brendon recognized the place as he stepped out of the car. This was the hotel which the band had stayed in during one of their tours shortly after Pretty Odd was released. It wouldn't have been a big deal if it hadn't been their first hotel stay in three weeks, and he and Ryan had been able to share a room together. The memory burned in his mind, and he glanced at Ryan, who refused to look back.

"I'm on the third floor," the older man said flatly. "Let's go."

Brendon would be lying if he said the elevator ride to the room wasn't awkward, and he would also be lying if he said he wasn't excited to in Ryan's room, where there would be liquor in the mini fridge, a warm shower, a bed...

Ryan opened the door and Brendon walked inside. It looked like any hotel room, except the bed was unmade and a suitcase was on top of it. Ryan moved toward the bag, picking up clothes and placing them inside the suitcase, not bothering to fold them. Brendon stood awkwardly in the center of the room, eyeing the fridge beside him. He felt himself getting restless.

"So?" Ryan said, and Brendon glanced away from the fridge to the older man. He nodded towards the armchair across from the bed. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?" Brendon asked flatly, sitting down in the chair.

"You know what." Ryan didn't look at him. "You're here, you'd said you'd speak. So speak."

Brendon sighed. He didn't know where to begin. He had felt so shitty for so long that he couldn't remember the beginning, when this had all started. He supposed the cheating incident may have triggered his state of depression, but he remembered feeling that way long before, while he was recording the album...

"Bren?" Ryan asked, pausing his folding.

"Sorry," Brendon said quickly. "I just... I just don't really know where to start."

Ryan frowned. He moved away from his suitcase and sat down at the edge of the bed across from Brendon, his arms crossed. "It's that bad?"

"Kind of." Brendon bit down hard on his bottom lip. "It's just... it's just complicated."

Ryan nodded. "I get it."

Do you really? Brendon wanted to ask. He wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him everything, from the constant drinking to the bathtub indecent. He wanted to, more than he wanted to do anything else, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"You know what I miss?" Brendon said instead, quickly changing the subject in his mind. "I miss us."

He saw Ryan's posture deflate. "Bren -"

"I do. I really do. I miss how we would travel cities together and how we would play shows together. I miss watching movies with you and writing songs with you. I miss the way we snuck off after shows together and I miss spending every minute together."

Ryan looked away. "And who's fault is that?" He asked quietly.

Brendon pretended not to hear him. "Please, Ry..." He placed his hand on Ryan's knee, and the boy looked back at him sharply. "Let me apologize."

Their faces were closer now. Brendon didn't remember when that happened. He didn't really mind. He willed himself to not look away.

"Have you missed me?" He asked, softly, quietly.

Ryan nodded, his big brown eyes boring into Brendon's own darker ones.

"I've missed you," he said again.

He wanted to kiss him.

"I'm not with Sarah anymore," he heard himself say.

"Bren - we can't -" Ryan stuttered out, although he made no attempt to pull away.

"We can." They were so close now, their noses barely inches apart. Brendon tested the older man's limits once again, leaning in the closest he could without their mouths actually touching, only ghosting over each other in the moment.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Brendon whispered.

He closed the gap that was barely even there in the first place and was met with Ryan's soft, nervous, familiar lips. He kissed him, Ryan's bottom lip sliding slowly between his own two, repeating the same action, once, twice, Ryan never responding.

He pulled back, breathless, staring into Ryan's dark brown eyes.

His lips tasted like Ryan, like beer and cigarettes and home, and suddenly Brendon was back at Myrtle Beach, kissing Ryan at the shore, groaning and whining as Ryan fucked him slow and passionately for the first time, laughing afterwards at how his "secret" that the dancer would reveal at the next show was now a lie.

Brendon licked his lips, savoring the taste of the older man. He breathed out.

"Fuck," he heard Ryan whisper, and that was what did it for him.

He sprang forward, catching Ryan's lips with his and kissing him hard, and this time Ryan kissed back, this time Ryan wrapped a hand around his neck to hold him in place, this time Ryan took control and held Brendon in his hands as he kissed him feverishly.

Their tongues were soon introduced, messy and wet and hot, Ryan licking his way into Brendon's mouth, and the singer whined, letting Ryan in, moaning softly each time their lips moved together, the sensation too much for him right now, even though it was merely kissing.

Ryan was in control now, and Brendon let him be in control, flipping over onto his back once the older man moved them in that respected direction, the suitcase getting kicked to the ground and its contents spilling on the carpeted floor. The kiss deepened and became more heated. Brendon's hands were in Ryan's brown hair, tufts of it in his fists, not pulling but simply holding it in his hands, needed something to hold onto as the two men continued to kiss.

Ryan bit down on Brendon's lip, hard, just how he liked it, and he couldn't help the moan that escaped from his lips. He had always had a slight kink for pain, and Ryan knew that. The man was using it to advantage now, which Brendon didn't think was fair yet let his senses become completely overwhelmed by this.

"Wait," Ryan suddenly said, breaking away from the kiss. "Wait."

He was breathing heavily, as was Brendon, his lips swollen and a deeper shade of red than they had been before. His eyes weren't clouded with lust like Brendon's were, instead they were glassy and worrying.

"What?" Brendon asked, breathing heavily, ignoring the growing tightness in his pants for the time being.

"I - I don't know, it just feels wrong, I don't think we should -"

"Hey, hey, hey," Brendon said calmingly, his hand moving to cup Ryan's neck, "it's not wrong. I promise you."

Ryan still didn't look convinced, so Brendon said, "Let me show you," and kissed him again, softer, coaxing his mouth open until he could slip his tongue in, moaning at the taste and fisting Ryan's hair tighter, kissing him roughly.

Ryan kissed back, his own small groan escaping from his lips, sighing against his mouth, biting down on the younger man's bottom lip. His hand slid into Brendon's (still slightly damp) hair, pulling hard just how he liked it.

Brendon broke off with a breathy moan. His hand snaked down between them and he palmed at Ryan's crotch, emitting a surprised, choked sound from the male.

He was hard. Not fully, but he wasn't soft, either.

Brendon chuckled, a smile forming on his lips. "Are you going to fuck me," he started slowly, his voice low, his fingers trailing up and down teasingly, "or am I going to fuck you?"

It took one second before Ryan pounced on him, pinning his wrists above his head and kissing him feverishly.

"I'm fucking you," he growled, sucking hotly on Brendon's earlobe, making the other man groan and his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Please," he whimpered, rolling his hips. "Need you Ry, need this -"

"Off," Ryan mumbled against his lips. He fumbled with Brendon's jacket, unzipping it and pushing it off his shoulders before immediately ripping his t-shirt off, and that was Ryan's hands on his skin, touching, feeling, warm and strong, and Brendon never felt more turned on.

He broke the kiss with a wet pop, breathing heavily and pressing stray kisses to Ryan's chin as he went to unbutton his dress shirt, tugging it open after a few tries and pulling his undershirt over his head. Their lips immediately reconnected, the kisses wet and hot and heavy, and all Brendon could do was feel Ryan's skin beneath his palms, massage his pectorals, clutch his sides.

The guitarist pushed Brendon back, and he fell onto the sheets, looking at Ryan hungrily as he went for the button of the man's jeans.

"Can't wait to feel you again," he mumbled as he popped the button open. He shoved his jeans down to his thighs, eyes fixed on the bulge in his boxers.

"Hurry the fuck up, then," Ryan responded emotionlessly, and Brendon glowered at him.

"Don't rush me," he muttered back, but pulled his boxers down all the same, his cock springing free. Brendon moaned at the sight. He took the base in his hand and closed his lips around the head, swirling his tongue around it until Ryan let out a loud moan.

"Bren," he gasped, knitting his long fingers through Brendon's hair and tugging, "don't stop - feels so good, fuck -"

Brendon deepthroated him without warning, taking his cock like a pro, sucking and tonguing at the underside, and when Ryan started to fuck his mouth, he let him do so, only pulling off when Ryan's grip grew tighter and a choked sound emitted from his lips.

Ryan gasped as Brendon's warm mouth disappeared. He was breathing heavily. He was closer than Brendon had thought.

"Fuck you," Ryan hissed at him.

"Yeah, I've been waiting for that," Brendon retorted, lifting up his ass. "So get me out of my fucking pants."

Ryan scowled, but pulled down Brendon's pants and boxers to mid-thigh and waited for Brendon to kick them off. He fitted himself on top of the singer, his leg pushing between Brendon's and their hard cocks brushing as their lips came together once again.

"You taste like me," Ryan murmured. He pushed himself closer. "Fuck, that's so hot."

"You got condoms?" Brendon said in response, moaning lightly as Ryan moved to suck at his neck.

"Mm, no," Ryan said against his skin. "You?"

"Jacket pocket," Brendon gasped. "Lube, too."

Ryan sucked a hickey under his ear. "Why? You've been out the night before? What, are you whoring yourself up for random guys to fuck you?"

Brendon moaned harshly, grasping Ryan's hair in his hand. "Ryan, Ry, please -"

"Answer the question."

"Yes," Brendon gasped. Even in the lustful state he was in, he still had some control over his own thoughts, and he used the control to decide to tease Ryan for a while. He smirked against his skin.

"It's the only thing keeping me through the day," he whispered seductively, trailing his tongue over Ryan's ear, who stiffened. "Just knowing that I'll get a cock to fill me up soon calms me down. I don't care who it is. And on the days where I can't go out, I fuck myself with a dildo. God -" he moaned out. "It feels so good."

Ryan growled deep in his chest and grinded their cocks together. Brendon moaned, forgetting about his plan. The nakedness only made the situation hotter. He bucked up his hips only to have Ryan push them back down.

"Nuh-uh, not after your little spiel," Ryan taunted. "If you want it, you're 'gonna have to beg for it."

"Please," Brendon gasped. "I need you. I need your cock, your fingers, anything -"

"Keep going," Ryan told him, crawling off the bed toward Brendon's jacket.

"- And I want you to kiss me, god, I want your mouth, I want you to mark me everywhere, claim me, make me your's, please Ryan, please, please -"

Suddenly Ryan's mouth was on his and kissing him passionately, the lube and condom thrown by their heads. Their tongues melded together, the salty taste of salt apparent on each other's lips. Brendon fisted Ryan's hair and pulled him closer, groaning, savoring the taste of Ryan on his tongue.

"Now, please, now," he whimpered against Ryan's lips, and the latter nodded too many times, but it didn't matter. He reached over to grab the lube and popped open the cap, covering three of his fingers with the solution. Brendon moved down on the bed, spreading his legs and waiting for Ryan.

The older man circled his hole with one finger, then pushed in, knuckle deep. Brendon whimpered at the intrusion, grabbing onto the sheets.

"More," he gasped, groaning as Ryan placed butterfly kisses along his thighs.

"Stop fretting baby, we'll get there," Ryan whispered against his skin as he curled his finger, and Brendon didn't know if it was the intrusion or Ryan's words, but it made him shiver.

Another finger pushed into him, brushing his prostate, and Brendon moaned.

"Fuck me," he whispered.

"Almost ready," Ryan whispered back, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Brendon groaned, lifting a hand to cup Ryan's jaw, their tongues meeting halfway in a short battle for dominance.

Brendon was so caught up in the kiss that he didn't notice a third finger stretching his hole, nor did he notice the sound of the condom wrapper being opened. The kiss broke only when he felt the head of Ryan's cock rubbing against his hole, and he moaned loudly.

"Please Ryan, please, want you so bad -"

And in one swift motion, Ryan pushed in all the way with one thrust, a deep, low groan releasing from his throat, matching Brendon's high-pitched whine.

"Oh god, yes, yes -" Brendon moaned out, his eyes rolling back into his head and his lids fluttering shut, the pleasure being too much to handle at the moment. His brain wasn't functioning, nor were his ears, yet his mouth was, his mouth was working quite well, and he was sure that he was either saying or moaning words of nonsense, he just couldn't comprehend what they were.

Ryan stilled inside him, gasping, his hands tight on Brendon's hips. "Fuck," he breathed out, hot and discordant, his voice to the point of sounding wrecked and his lips shiny.

Brendon bucked up his hips, hoping to gain some sort of friction. "Fuck me," he told the older boy. "I want it Ry, I need you -"

"Yeah, okay," Ryan responded breathlessly, rolling hips once, and Brendon gasped at the friction. "Just - just give me a minute -"

Brendon couldn't see why he had to wait for Ryan, as he was the one topping; he was in much less pain than Brendon should be in (all the pain was overwhelmed by pleasure with him), if any at all. He rolled his hips yet again. "Ryan," he moaned, trying to encourage his former lover to move.

It took a few more seconds until Ryan was pulling out and thrusting back in, repeating the motion until he stuck with an angle that left Brendon sputtery with breath and his whole body hot, an angle that just brushed against his prostate.

"That's it, that's it, fuck me Ryan, yeah -"

Ryan leant down and kissed him, teeth and tongue and bruising mouths, cradling a hand around Brendon's neck to kiss him better. He fucked the man's mouth with his tongue, and Brendon whimpered, vanquished by Ryan's sudden spurt of dominance, relishing in his now submissive form.

Sweat was sliding down his neck and back, down his face, mixing in with their kisses, making the whole situation even hotter and turning Brendon on even more. He moved with Ryan's thrusts, slamming his hips down at the same time Ryan thrusted in, hard, and he moaned out yet again, the desperation apparent in his voice, Ryan's cock sliding in deeper than it ever had this night, and memories just kept coming back to Brendon, like the first time they had done this, and the last, and all the times when Ryan fucked him because he had been angry...

"God, you're so hot," Brendon mumbled against Ryan's lips, groaning blatantly as the older man moved to bite and suck on his neck. "Missed this," he gasped.

The hand around Brendon's neck moved to grip the short strands of his hair, pulling his head back to give more access to his bruised neck, and Brendon loved being dominated like this, loved it when Ryan was rough with him, and everything felt ten times more intense since it had been so long since they had been together like this.

"Legs," Ryan muttered into Brendon's ear, and when Brendon didn't respond, Ryan said, "C'mon, wrap your legs around me." His voice was rough. "'Wanna fuck you better."

"Yeah, yeah," Brendon said after a minute, complying to Ryan's wishes, digging his heels into the small of his back. He moaned loudly at the angle, the new position allowing Ryan to thrust in deeper and hit his prostate dead-on. "Fuck -"

"Not 'gonna last much longer," Ryan mumbled before kissing Brendon again, long and wet and hard, and Brendon moaned in both response and agreement. He clenched down on Ryan's cock, hoping to see a reaction, and a reaction he got. Ryan moaned loud into his mouth, biting down on his bottom lip, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Fucking hell, Bren," he hissed, snaking a hand down to stroke Brendon's incredibly hard cock, trying to get him off.

"Yeah, yeah, just like that," Brendon responded huskily, snapping his hips to the rhythm of Ryan's thrusts, his head thrown back with pleasure. His hands gripped Ryan's shoulder blades as he said, "'Gonna come, 'gonna come, Ry, I'm -"

With those words he was coming, thick, white ropes shooting out of his cock and landing on his and Ryan's chests, and soon after Ryan was coming into the condom, pushing in deeper than he ever had before, stilling as he released, moaning deep from his chest, his head falling onto Brendon's shoulder.

Brendon was still catching his breath by the time Ryan was pulling out, Brendon hissing at the sensation and Ryan muttering a "Sorry, sorry," as he climbed off the bed, no doubt throwing away the condom.

Brendon sighed, closing his eyes as he fisted the sheets, using them to wipe off the semen on his chest. That might have been some of the best sex he had ever had. God, he had needed that.

A wave of exhaustion suddenly hit him. He had absolutely no intention of leaving this hotel bed now. He wanted to sleep, just sleep, for a good twelve hours, hopefully more, not the shitty three or four hours that he had been living off of this whole tour.

The dip in the bed was the only thing that made him open one eye, revealing Ryan sitting on the edge, his boxers back on, running a hand through his tangled hair. Brendon smiled lazily, sinking back onto the pillows and shutting his eye.

"God, that was amazing," He said aloud.

There was a minute of silence, then Ryan's voice, soft and hesitant: "Yeah, it really was."

Brendon turned onto his side, picking up his jeans from off the floor. He dug in one of the pockets, extracting a pack of cigarettes. He pulled two out from the pack, gesturing them to Ryan. "You got a lighter?"

"Yeah." Ryan stood from the bed, and Brendon watched as he walked across the room to his jacket pocket, taking out a lighter and tossing it back to Brendon. The younger man lit one for himself, placing it in between his lips before lighting the second one, holding it out to Ryan for him to take.

He took a drag and let the smoke dance from his lips, Ryan soon doing the same. He quickly fantasized about exhaling the smoke into Ryan's mouth as they lazily made out, then pushed the thought away.

He fell back on the pillows, the cigarette dangling from his index and middle fingers. He just wanted to sleep, but he couldn't have this cigarette go to waste. His eyes slid over to the mini fridge, and his heart skipped. "You got any alcohol?" He asked.

"Yeah."

When Ryan didn't say anything else, he tried again. "Can I have some?"

He didn't respond for quite a while, and Brendon focused on finishing the cigarette, assuming that Ryan had just ignored the question. Then -

"I don't want to see you becoming my dad, Bren."

Brendon froze, the cigarette hanging between his lips. An alcoholic? He wasn't becoming an alcoholic. Not like Ryan's father had been.

"I'm not," he murmured, unsure if Ryan had just heard him, and he reached over to stub out the cigarette on the wooden nightstand, leaving the slightly smoking stick there to lay. "I'm not," he said again, more to himself than to Ryan.

Another wave of tiredness washed over him. The show must be canceled by now, so what was another few hours going to do? He deserved the rest.

He crawled under the covers more, his eyes slipping shut. "I'm tired. G'night."

He heard Ryan chuckle. "Bren, you..." A pause. "Never mind. Sleep as long as you want."

That was the last thing Brendon remembered before drifting off, the smell of cigarette smoke tickling his nose.

-

When he came to, he didn't want to open his eyes.

The bed he was in was so warm, surely it wasn't his bunk in the tour bus, and definitely not at his old home with Sarah. He nestled further under the covers before hearing the same voice that woke him up in the first place.

"Brendon, you need to wake up. I'm taking you back to the bus."

Brendon cracked open an eye. There stood Ryan, fully clothed, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Don't make me go," he whined quietly.

A small smile appeared on Ryan's face. "Sorry."

Brendon groaned, rolling onto his back and fully opening his eyes. He blinked, the white ceiling making him scrunch up his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Ten."

"Ten," Brendon repeated. He had just slept for six hours straight. That was a new record.

"Bren, come on," Ryan pushed.

"Okay, okay," Brendon mumbled, rubbing one side of his face with his hand. "Give me... give me ten minutes."

He got dressed and tried his best to fix up his hair, the best he could do being leaving his bangs be, but at least the sex hair was gone. He checked his neck in the mirror as well, spotting the dark hickey right under his ear, along with a few much less noticeable ones. And if he lifted up his shirt - yep, there were bruises scattered across his hips, each the size of Ryan's fingers. Those would stay there for a good couple of days.

"What was the venue you were playing at?" Ryan asked him as they walked out of the hotel.

"Mandalay Bay Events Center," Brendon answered. "Shit, we 'gotta reschedule that... I don't want to do another show."

"And what time was the bus leaving?"

"Um... midnight, I think. But even so, they wouldn't leave without me. I'm the whole band."

Ryan didn't say anything after that.

The ride back in the taxi was silent, Ryan and Brendon each looking out their respected windows, watching the bright city whiz past them. Brendon wondered if Ryan regretted sleeping with him. He sure didn't. Sleeping with Ryan was the best thing to come out of this tour.

The taxi stopped two blocks down from the venue and the two men got out, Ryan insisting on paying even with Brendon putting up a fight. "I have the money," he told Ryan after the taxi had drove away. "You didn't need to waste yours."

Ryan shrugged. "It's just a taxi ride. I'll be alright."

They walked towards the venue, Brendon leading the way, heading to the very back of the building where the tour buses were parked. Slowly, Brendon made his way to the band's bus and knocked on the door.

Almost immediately it was swung open, revealing Zack, his face paler than Brendon had ever seen before, his eyes widening at the sight of Brendon.

"You fucking idiot," the bodyguard muttered before pulling Brendon into a crushing hug, which Brendon did not return.

"Where the hell did you go to?" Zack asked him next, leaving no time for him to respond before jumping to the next lecture. "How did you think it was a good idea to miss everything? I was this close to calling the cops, Bren. You let down the band, the fans, me -"

"I was with Ryan," Brendon muttered, not meeting the man's eyes.

Something in Zack's demeanor changed. He nodded curtly. "I know."

Brendon didn't question the man's words, he was simply too tired. He shrugged. "So you know I'm fine."

Zack sighed. "Why don't you get inside. I'll be in there for a moment to talk with you." He didn't wait for a reply before he brushed aside the singer and walked over to Ryan.

Brendon didn't go inside, not just yet. He watched as the two men shook hands and watched as Zack pulled Ryan into a hug. They were talking too quietly for Brendon to hear their words, but he could have sworn he saw Zack saying the words "good to see you" and saw Ryan smile, and he even watched Zack whisper a short thank you to the older man. He rolled his eyes.

Zack turned back around, walking up the steps to the tour bus. "Brendon, inside, now," he instructed before heading inside himself, leaving Brendon and Ryan alone.

"Um -" Brendon scratched the back of his neck. "I guess you'd better go, then."

Ryan shrugged. "I guess."

Brendon looked away. There was so much he wanted to say to Ryan, yet none of the words could come out of his mouth. "It was good seeing you," he settled on.

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, it was."

They stood there for a while more, no one wanting to make the first move to departure. At least, that was what Brendon hoped Ryan was doing as well. Maybe he was just waiting for Brendon to leave.

God, he wanted to kiss him again.

Then Ryan gave him a close-lipped smile, making his way to turn back towards the road. "See you."

"Yeah," was all Brendon could say as he watched Ryan walk away. Then, when he was too far away for Brendon to see him, he turned and walked inside the tour bus, shutting the door behind him.

Dallon was in the kitchen area when he walked in, not showing any surprise at the sight of Brendon. "Zack told us you came back," he explained, answering Brendon's silent question. He pulled out a bottled water out of the fridge, leaning against the wall. "Was that Ryan out there?" He asked. "Ryan Ross?"

"Yeah," Brendon mumbled, going through the fridge like Dallon had just done, except he pulled out a beer bottle instead of water. He didn't want to talk about Ryan with anyone, especially not Dallon.

"Oh." Brendon watched as Dallon's eyes flickered over the hickeys on his neck, watching him put two and two together. He tore his gaze away from the older man and popped open the cap to his beer.

"Bren." Brendon flicked his eyes up to Zack, the bottle halfway to his lips. "Can I talk to you?" The bodyguard asked.

Brendon nodded, pushing past Dallon and following Zack into the lounge. He passed Kenny and Dan, who were sitting together in Dan's bunk, playing a game of cards. He lifted his beer at them in greeting as he proceeded behind Zack in greeting, and Kenny nodded in response.

"Yeah?" Brendon asked, throwing himself down on one of the couches in the lounge as Zack slid the door shut, taking a drink of his beer.

Zack didn't sit down, instead he stood in front of Brendon with his arms crossed. "Why were you with Ryan? Ryan? I haven't heard of you two interacting in years."

Brendon shrugged. "Ran into him at a diner. He took me back to his place."

Zack raised an eyebrow. "Did he?"

"Mmh-hmm." Brendon took another sip of beer, turning his head away from Zack. Ryan's words floated into his mind - "I don't want to see you becoming my dad, Bren."

Well, he wasn't. He was just having a beer. There was no problem with that.

"Is that -" Brendon looked back at Zack to see him squinting at his neck. The man groaned. "You didn't fuck him, did you?" He muttered.

"Nah." Brendon grinned cockily. "He fucked me."

"I did not need to know that," came Zack's reply, voice muffled from the hand resting on his chin, lowering himself to sit on the couch opposite Brendon. "What did that do for you, Brendon?"

"It helped me get off."

"So you were willing to cancel a show, let down all twelve thousand people coming, let all the fans know that you were missing, and maybe get the police on this, all for getting you off?"

"Why are you so against me being with him?" Brendon shot back. "I don't have to confide in you for everything."

"I'm worried about your performance, Brendon! Spencer and I had to help you with every little detail for a month after he left the first time! What's to say that you won't do that again?"

"Because it's not like then!" Brendon retorted loudly. "I didn't even mean to bump into him. It just happened. And then one thing led to another and... it's over now," he finished lamely, bringing the beer bottle to his lips again and taking a drink. "It was just a one-time thing."

"It better be," Zack said, standing up from the couch. He pointed a finger at Brendon. "I expect you to be ready for the show tomorrow on time. No sulking, no moping. Understand?"

"Sure," Brendon muttered, taking a drink of his beer. As he put down the bottle, Zack snatched it from his hand as he walked out of the lounge.

"Hey!" Brendon yelled out, scrambling off the couch and following Zack to the bunks. The rest of the members looked up as he yelled. "I was drinking that!"

"You've had plenty," Zack calmly said, not looking back at the furious singer. "Go get some sleep, Bren. God knows you need it."

Brendon stopped in his tracks, glowering after the bodyguard. He met eyes with Dallon, who nodded once, gesturing toward the bunks.

Brendon sighed. "Fine, I'm going. What time is our show tomorrow? Where are we even going?"

"Oakland is next," Kenny replied. "Doors open at seven, just the usual."

"Thanks," Brendon murmured. "I'm 'gonna get some sleep."

No one bid him goodnight, and Brendon didn't expect them to. He climbed into his bunk and threw off his shirt and jacket before getting under the covers. The bed was far less comfortable than the one at Ryan's hotel. Ryan.

Brendon fished out his phone from his jacket and opened it up. Ryan's contact glowed on the screen, tempting him. He took a deep breath, then typed out a message.

Hey. He deleted it. Too short, too sweet, too formal.

You felt good tonight. No. Just... no.

I miss you. Now, that wasn't even an option.

He huffed angrily and shut off his phone and tossed it back to the end of his bunk, lying down. Whatever. Ryan could wait another day. It wasn't like he owed the man anything. In fact, Ryan could wait for as long as Brendon wanted. Tonight meant nothing. Brendon would never have to text Ryan if he didn't want to.

Although, he would be lying if he said he didn't want to text Ryan.

He closed his eyes and tried to let sleep overcome him. It was less easier to drift off here than it had been with Ryan. He desperately tried to sleep the nine hours to Oakland, but he couldn't manage to slip into unconsciousness in his bunk, and only managed to do so after sneaking out to the kitchen and drinking an entire bottle of vodka. He woke up four hours later on the bathroom floor, the taste of alcohol and Ryan still faint on his lips.


End file.
